


the starry sky, it’s filled with reindeer

by rainbowsedge (orphan_account)



Series: a forester in fable [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Christmas Fluff, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Everyone’s name matches their calling in life, Fluff, M/M, Merry Christmas, Oneshot, Smut, Snow, Surprise Motherfuckers, Tree Houses, slight mention of zayn being a doctor because that’s so hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21959839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/rainbowsedge
Summary: Everyone in the town of Fable knows that Harry Styles, the son of famous fashion designer Anne Styles, has been gone a long time.He came home for this Christmas though, and there was no way his childhood friend Zayn was going to waste this opportunity to show him all that he’s missed.It’s just warmth and happiness ‘cause they love each other. That’s all.
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Series: a forester in fable [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582120
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	the starry sky, it’s filled with reindeer

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Merry Christmas! By the way, I switch from past-tense to present-tense without any warning whatsoever, which may read as bad lmaooooo but enjoy! 
> 
> SEVERELY UNEDITED LMAOOOO

The town of Fable recognizes two truths:

One: they are a family tied to each other by blood, knitting needles, and honor.

Two: Harry Styles had severed himself from the threads of those ties.

“Mr. Quartz, Mr. Quartz!” Little Georgie ran into the watch and clock shop, panting as he propelled himself up over and over to get his face over the counter. “Mr. Quartz, did you hear the news?”

“Yes, George?” Mr. Quartz entertained, walking out from the back as he wiped his hands on his leather apron. “No, I have not heard the news.”

“They say Harry Styles is coming home for Christmas, that his mother’s been willing to make presence of his face again in her home.” Georgie exclaimed, tugging at Mr. Quartz’s apron as he walked past passively.

“Well, it is time he came home,” Mr. Quartz shrugged. “I wonder what kind of man he grew up to be.”

“My mother said that he was always very strange,” Georgie said innocently. “That he’d spend hours in the forest talking to bunnies and squirrels. She said it’s why they had to send him away, for everyone’s safety.”

“George, do you find any correlation in that train of reasoning?”

“No I don’t, Mr. Quartz,” Georgie admitted. “But you knew him. Is it true that he’s dangerous?”

“Not in the slightest,” Quartz laughed, dusting off the grandfather clock ticking away in the shop window. “Just a boy with an eye for a world larger than Fable. And people from Fable can only accept those who accept that Fable is the only and largest world there is.”

Georgie gasped, “A tongue twister?”

Mr. Quartz shooed him off, “Go to school, you won’t get any smarter telling me about how you listen to your mother’s nonsense.”

“She also says that you’re an old hack who spends years staring at tiny pieces of rusty metal for no money.”

Mr. Quartz blinked at him. “Well, she’s right. When is Harry to arrive?”

“This evening, sir, three weeks before Christmas! My mother said she hopes he’ll leave soon.”

Mr. Quartz rolled his eyes, “I was alive for the day your mother was born, and to this day I have never met anyone as old and bitter as she is.”

“I’ll let her know.” Georgie grinned, the two front teeth missing from his pearly white smile. Mr. Quartz gave his best sarcastic half-smile back.

“Harry Styles, the fashion designer’s boy,” He muttered under his breath. “Why on earth would he come back here?”

“Fuck!” Harry screeched as his foot made an obscene squelching noise into the mud. “Dick, arsewipe, Churchill Almighty!” He screamed at his shoe, huffing indignantly at the people who were staring at him like he was insane. “Yes, I am batshit crazy. Thank you for asking.” He made eye contact with as many of them as he could, which only sent them running faster. Good. Fuck them. Fuck this.

“Mr. Styles,” someone cleared his throat behind him. “Hello?”

Harry spun around and sucked in a sharp inhale. “Oh, Mister...uh,”

“Wheelie, sir. I’ve known you since you were seven years old.” His driver deadpanned, holding out a gloved hand towards where the car was apparently parked.

Harry nodded, embarrassed. “Right.”

“How were your travels, sir?” Wheelie opened the car door, politely shrugging off the last ten minutes as though it never happened. “I heard you stayed in Scotland for some time.”

“The air’s better there, I guess,” Harry sighed as he slumped into the backseat. “Why is there mud in December?”

Wheelie expertly yanked off his sullied shoe. “It wasn’t mud, sir, it was horse dung.”

“Fuck.”

“Mm,” Wheelie raised his eyebrow, throwing the shoe into a bag and efficiently tying it. “We are so glad you are home.”

“Uh huh,” Harry pulled his phone out and began to furiously text one of his friends in Paris, currently working the Milan shows with Balenciaga. “Right.”

“Your mother has been waiting for this day for a very long time. For you to come back.”

“Sure,” the expedient tapping easily overpowered hisforced genuinity.

“She expects that you’ve agreed to her arrangement, then?” Wheelie looked at him through the rearview mirror.

Harry swallowed and said nothing. Wheelie took that as a sign to roll up the partition.

The house was on a hill in the center of Fable, a gigantic, stone-walled disaster with vines and gardens surrounding the residence. Harry always hated this house, it never felt as roomy as the space it took up. Often times, it was as though the walls were sitting on his chest, maybe on his shoulders; he was Atlas.

He deserved to be punished. There was no other way to explain it.

He came from an affluent family, all the families in Fable could recognize a Styles coming from a mile away, and for good reason. The whole town depended on the economy that the Styleses brought in, and everyone had always wanted a piece of Harry from the minute he was born.

Of course he acted out.

“Wow, I haven’t been here in so long.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Wheelie hummed. “They keep the gardens so well, I could die in one of these rose bushes.”

“A little dramatic for your taste, don’t you think, Wheelie?” Harry rested his head against the cool window. “I already feel heavy.”

“That’s not a bad thing. Good people should never feel light.”

“I want to get out of these clothes as soon as possible.” Harry fidgeted uncomfortably, feeling suffocated.

“You know your mother appreciates when you promote the brand wherever the opportunity should be,” Wheelie tried kindly. 

“I know.” Was all Harry said. He’d learned a long time ago to find agency in himself in other ways but his body.

Wheelie looked away, back to the road. They were nearly to the front entrance, and Harry could feel more and more of himself slipping away as his breath got closer to the door. Suddenly, a cold rush of air attacked his left side, he was being guided out of the car, and his feet were moving one by one.

“She is so excited.”

Harry looked down as he crossed the threshold. “Yeah.”

Wheelie was busy getting some of the maids and butlers to take Harry’s luggage with him. “It’s not Paris nor is it Edinburgh, but it is home, yes?”

Harry licked his lips and walked the familiar tread of dread to his mother’s office. “Home is anywhere but here.”

It was only one flight of stairs, but it might as well have been Mount Everest. The door creaked an unnecessary amount when his fingers made contact with the wood, and Harry instantly recognized the perfume winding through the air. “Hi, mom.”

“Welcome home, baby.”

“Yeah.” Harry stood an awkward eight feet away from the desk, hands behind his back and bottom lip between his teeth.

“I got your room all ready for you.”

“Cool.”

“...And I’m making those peppermint brownies you like.”

“Nice. Dad liked them too.” Harry pointed out, then went silent again.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, cool.” Harry pursed his lips and walked out the door before his mother could say anything else to him. He felt dizzy and in great need of a scream, but he was always one to stay calm. He teetered to his childhood bedroom, sucking in his sob when he realized that everything was exactly in its place as the day he left. He slumped onto his bed and covered his face with his hands, tugging at his hair for an inch of grounding.

Relishing in the silence for hours was not a plan written in the stars, for within the next five minutes Harry heard a window being opened and a few soft grunts entering the room, when he looked up he was greeted with one leg through, hands gripping at the edges, and sat very still as he allowed for the rest of the person to illegally come in. “Mind giving me a hand?”

“You do know the front door exists, right, Zayn?” Harry giggled, standing up to grab the floating hand and pull his friend through the window. “Aren’t we a little too old for this?”

“This window used to be a lot bigger,” Zayn laughed breathlessly, white smile lighting up the entire room. “I thought it’d be nostalgic.”

“I’m about to throw up from all this nostalgic,” Harry snorted, stretching his arms out towards him. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Zayn murmured softly, his large hands rubbing circles between Harry’s shoulder blades. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“It’s Styles x Off-White.”

“But it’s purple,” Zayn blinked, lifting up one of the sleeves in pure confusion. “It’s not even remotely white.”

Harry snorted again, his smile larger through his laughter. “Nevermind, nevermind. It’s really fucking ugly, huh?”

“Naw,” Zayn smirked, which only made Harry laugh harder. “It’s…unique.”

“It’s drip, Zayn.” Harry said jokingly, but the way Zayn’s eyebrows raised made him let go of all his farce.

Zayn pulled back fully, ruffling Harry’s hair. He was a head taller than him, always was, but now his face had rid itself of all the baby cheeks and his cheekbones were higher than Harry’s will to live. “How are you, Zayn Forester?”

Zayn smiled softly, “Not Zayn Forester anymore.”

Harry didn’t realize just how much his smile faltered in that moment, because just the sight of it made Zayn uncomfortably scratch at his neck. “I got married a couple of years ago, he’s from New York. I’m Zayn Malik now.”

“Ungh?” Harry asked, and Zayn shook his head, spinning in circles around his spinny chair. “Zayn...Malik?”

“Never really thought myself much of a forester anyways,” Zayn fiddled with the little trinkets on Harry’s desk. “Always more of a spinster. Like you. Your name should be Harry Spinster.”

Harry blinked, still in shock. “You got married?”

“Yeah,” Zayn stood up and slowly walked over, waving a hand in front of Harry’s face. “I think you were in Japan at the time, or India. It was a really small wedding.”

“How—how did you meet?” Harry stuttered.

“He came for a business trip and never left,” Zayn shrugged. “That’s about it.”

“I see,” Harry thought he might go faint, just from the thought of a random stranger strolling into town and managing to trap their most beautiful rose, or as Zayn would rather refer, pine tree. “Congrats.”

“Thanks,” Zayn hummed. “You should get some sleep. It was probably a long flight, huh?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled weakly. “Thanks for coming to see me. I really did miss—“

“Me too. I missed you, Hazza,” The pet name rolled off of his tongue as easily as water did down a drain, and something dead inside Harry’s heart began to electrocute itself back to life. “I really, really missed you.” Zayn snaked his fingers with Harry’s, and before he had any time to process what was happening, he was being pushed down onto the bed and Zayn’s lips were on his. He was sitting on the edge whilst Zayn was merely bent down, holding his face captive as Harry’s hands flew around, confused on what to do.

When he pulled away, his hair was flying in different directions and a bite mark was left on his jaw. Zayn wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, gave Harry one last smirk, and crawled back out of the window.

Alright, what the fuck?

+++

“Wake up, princess. It’s time to bathe and meet your mother for breakfast,” a shrill voice pierced from one ear out the other, making Harry groan and yodel until he shot himself up with a dramatic exhale. The sound of curtains being drawn, the water turned on, and the sunlight flowing red through his closed eyelids. “Up you come, let’s go.”

“I don’t need you to run me baths anymore, Marie,” Harry groaned, “I’m not seven anymore.”

“Yet, you still stink,” Marie laughed, wiping her hands off on her apron as she came back to inspect his face. “Someone needs to shave.”

“I came back late last night, please give me a break,” Harry muttered, still half asleep. “I don’t even remember what happened when I got home.”

Marie chuckled, “Well, today’s to be lovely, maybe you should take a walk into town.”

“No one likes me in town,” Harry protested.

“Respect and liking are two different things, baby. We’re only in trouble if you don’t have the first.” Marie threw some normal looking clothes at him and walked out.

“Fuck, I should stop drinking alone,” Harry groaned, slapping his forehead. “Why was I drinking?” He looked over at his nightstand, where there was half a bottle of whiskey and a glass threatening to fall off the edge. He frowned at it, still confused, but decided that his priorities should be trained on looking like a human again.

It didn’t hit him until he wandered into one of the artisan shops near his house, dangling jewelry and handmade necklaces with his fingers. “Amber, how much is this one?”

“You can have that one,” She smiled from behind the counter. “Think of it as a welcome home present.”

“Really?” Harry’s chest felt warm, and in that surprise alone he set the necklace back down. “Thank you.”

“How’re you, Harry?” She walked towards him, taking a look at the one he chose. “How was…?”

“Paris? Pretty good,” Harry sighed, shrugging. “Historical locations tend to not really change much.”

“I was really surprised when I heard you were coming back home,” Amber said as she packaged it up for him. “I never thought you would.”

“I didn’t either,” Harry said honestly. Behind them, the creak of the shop door was accompanied by the wind chimes rocking about, and when Harry instinctively turned around to see who it was, his hangover immediately came back.

It was Zayn, towering over them in a long black coat and worker pants, muscles snugly enclosed by his clothing almost verging on just being too small. The memories of what had happened last night came back, so Harry just stood there, petrified. “Hi Zayn!”

“Hi, Amber,” Zayn smirked at Harry as he made his way across to her. “How’re you today?”

“Good, good. Always better when you come to visit,” Amber winked at Harry, who went red as a tomato and continued to freeze himself in the same position. “You said ‘hi’ to Harry already, yes?”

Zayn turned around, Harry could feel it, and something of a laugh emitted from his lips. “Yeah, I said hi.”

_I got married a couple years ago, he’s from New York. I’m Zayn Malik now._

“Uh, I have to go, I’m really sorry,” Harry stammered, his lungs hugging each other as he ran out of the shop.

“But your necklace—“ Amber frowned in confusion, “Aw, wonder what’s up with him.”

Zayn paused to look at the door before smiling again, “I can get it to him, Amber,” He stretched his hand out. “And there really isn’t anything wrong with him, it’s just how he is.”

Amber clicked her tongue, “I have a feeling that you’re planning something and I’m not too sure whether or not I want to allow it,” She handed him the delicate box anyways. “Make sure it gets to him, alright?” She closed her hands over his. “Really, make sure. Tell him we love him.”

Zayn nodded, the action of placing it in the back pocket of his jeans kicking dust and air about. “I will. No fuckshit.”

“No fuckshit,” Amber agreed sternly as he walked out, raising her eyebrows at him when he turned around to say something else. “Bye, Zaynie.”

He stuck his tongue out playfully, then walked onto the sidewalk with a knowing look in his eyes. Somehow, the world seemed a little bit brighter, the air was clearer, and Zayn would be a fool if he didn’t say that it was all because of that certain boy who stumbled back into his eyeline.

He walked calmly to the forest park, trying to match his steps into all of the boot prints left in the damp soil. Underneath the trees, the call of the birds sounded like a symphony orchestra echoing off bark and leaves. “Hazza,” He stopped, chuckling quietly to himself at the figure sitting on a bench. “Haz?”

Harry turned around, looking shell-shocked and frightened, but let Zayn sit next to him nonetheless. “Hi...hi.”

“Hi,” Zayn smiled, reaching behind him. “You forgot this.”

“How’d you find me?” Harry took the box whilst biting his lip. “Am I that obvious?”

Zayn shrugged, “Naw, I just knew you’d come here. Always have when you got all shaky,” He joked, in a way that suggested he merely just wanted to make his skin thicker. “Aren’t you cold? It’s gonna snow soon, I hope you brought a real winter coat.”

“You’re not gonna ask me why I’m here?” Harry blurted out, done with the pleasantries. “Don’t you want to…I dunno, question me?”

“Why should I?” Zayn pulled out a protein bar, wrenching a bite off with his teeth. He leaned back onto the bench, admiring the way his breath turned to white smoke in the chilly weather. “Why would I?”

Harry was stunned, “Because I’m bad luck, because I wasn’t supposed to come back.”

Zayn scoffed, “Harry, I’d think that after all these years seeing the rest of the world you’d be done playing into that bullshit,” He offered Harry a bite, but he refused. “You came home ‘cause it’s Christmas and that seems pretty simple to me.”

“What do you do now?” Harry asked, “I haven’t seen you in so long I forgot.”

“I’m still the Fable Memorial E.R doctor, if that’s what you mean,” Zayn’s eyes were so pretty, Harry wanted to die. “But only part-time. I’ve invested enough to do my own thing now. Ride my own wave, you know?”

“I know,” Harry nodded, then shivered. “Shit, it’s cold.”

“Yeah, stupid, I told you so,” Zayn laughed, leaning forward to wrap his own scarf onto Harry. “You might as well be naked.”

Harry’s face flamed at that, and in order to hide it he just stuffed his face into the scarf. Zayn smiled, finding it so fucking cute that he couldn’t help but lay a kiss on Harry’s forehead. “Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t change all that much, Haz. Still shaky, I mean.”

Harry looked up, wetting his lips in surprise as Zayn ruffled his hair again. “You think it’s a good thing?”

Zayn tossed his wrapper into a nearby trash can, “It’s a good thing. See you ‘round.”

Harry’s fingers were tingling and his entire face burned red. He watched as Zayn cooly walked away, not once turning back or anything at all. He looked back down at the scarf where Zayn’s smell was emanating from, gulping as his heart pounded in desperate fervor. Zayn wasn’t the same heartthrob that used to crawl through Harry’s window anymore, and he honestly didn’t know how to feel about it. “I haven’t changed?” He asked himself softly, his forehead thumping where Zayn’s lips touched it.

+++

“They’re really good, mom,” Harry lied, biting through the toothpastey pieces of brownies sticking to his gums. “Just the right amount of peppermint.”

“I’m glad you like them,” She seemed genuinely happy when Harry said it, which only made him feel worse. “Harry, before you go today, I wanted to let you know that I’m throwing a Holiday party here tonight, to start the season off and celebrate you coming back.”

“Celebrate me coming back? Why?” Harry asked in disbelief, brow furrowing.

His mom just kept going, “And we’re going to invite all the townsfolk and order catering—“

“Why are we celebrating me coming back? No one wants to celebrate that.” Harry felt his stomach turn.

“What do you mean, Harry? I want to celebrate my son coming back home…”

“You’re—you’re the one who sent me away in the first place,” Harry choked out, dodging his mother’s outstretched arms to run up the stairs.

“Harry,”

He was already in his room by the time he heard her try for his name again. Leaned against the closed door, he stared right at the open window and slid down, his breath quickening with panic and anger. He wasn’t even sure if he was really angry, but if he was, he had no idea how to handle it.

He couldn’t run off to Paris or Los Angeles now that the whole town’s apparently welcoming him back home. And then there was Zayn.

“Yes?” A voice made Harry jump and smack the back of his head against the wood. “Oh shit, you okay?”

“Zayn? What are you doing here?” Harry groaned, seeing the figure crawl through his window again. 

“Yesterday I said that I was going to show you something, remember?” Zayn smirked as he jumped down, patting off his clothes before walking over to Harry. “Why were you whispering my name to yourself while tucked up in the corner, hm?”

“I don’t remember,” Harry admitted, embarrassed at how chapper his lips were. “And I wasn’t.”

“I heard you,” Zayn grunted as he sat down next to him. “You look like you were crying.”

“I wasn’t.”

Zayn hummed and brushed Harry’s hair out of his face. “Come with me, I have to show you something.”

“You don’t have work?” Harry tried, slowly moving back as Zayn moved closer. “Or…”

“No, I’m off today,” Zayn smiled, helping Harry up. “Get your coat,”

“You can use the front door, you know.” Harry sighed, complying as Zayn expectantly waited for him at the windowsill.

“Never.” Zayn shook his head, eyes twinkling.

“I have things to do,”

“Like what?” Zayn raised an eyebrow. “Sitting ‘round, looking pretty while letting people squeeze your cheeks?”

Harry blushed and huffed, following Zayn out of the window. “God, I have to go back. I can’t jump off of the roof.”

“Yes,” Zayn paused to leap off and expertly land on his feet. “You can. Come on, I’ll catch you.”

“I don’t even think I can aim that well,” Harry groaned, holding onto the roofing for dear life. “Wait, Zayn,”

“You’re okay, babe,” Zayn cheered, motioning and nodded for him to go ahead. “C’mon.”

Harry shook his head and whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna go back,” His foot slipped, and both of them flinched.

“Oh jesus,” Zayn shook his head. “It’s alright, baby. I’ll catch you, I promise.”

Harry panted in frustration, looking down at Zayn with a contempt ridden expression. “Okay,”

“That’s it, babe,” Zayn said it again, that nickname, and that alone was enough for Harry to gracelessly jump down with a scream. “Told you.”

Harry opened his eyes, uncovering his face and looked up to see a smug Zayn smiling down at him. “It’s only about eight feet, babe.”

“Shut up,” Harry flung his arms around Zayn’s neck and buried his face in his chest. “Gosh.”

Zayn didn’t say anything after that, just slowly lowered them to the ground, “Uh, you gonna let go?”

“Oh,” Harry flung himself onto the ground, making an obscene thudding noise with his head. “Ow.”

“You’re such a clutz, Haz.” Zayn sighed, helping him up. “Just what am I supposed to do with you?”

“‘M sorry,” Harry held onto Zayn’s hand when he squeezed, and their fingers somehow locked together. “Where are we going, Zayn?”

“In the woods,” Zayn went ahead. “Stick close to me, okay? There’s lots of wild boar that run around in this area, it’s pretty dangerous.”

“Is it too late to back out?” Harry squeaked at that, and Zayn just nodded at him with a smile. He bit his lip, wondering if this was an absolutely horrendous idea or not, but there was no use in contemplating that anyways. “Zaynie,”

“Yeah, Haz,” Zayn motioned for him to be careful in stepping over a log. “We’re almost there, quit your yapping for just a few minutes, would ya?”

Harry tugged at Zayn’s coat, “Zaynie, I don’t like this.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let the pigs or the wolves get ya,” Zayn picked Harry up in his arms to move him across the frozen stream. “Swear you’ll like it.”

Harry was still apprehensive, “I haven’t been in the forest since…”

“I know.” Zayn finally stopped and turned around to face Harry. With one hand, he reached forward and yanked Harry into his arms. “Look up, Haz.”

Harry did, and exhaled so faintly that his sigh sounded almost erotic. “Wow,”

“Yeah, newly re-built just for you. The old one fell apart, so I thought I’d make this one a legit tree house, with a generator and everything,” Zayn hugged Harry from behind as they continued to stare up at it. “You like it?”

“I love it,” Harry let Zayn wrap his arms around his waist. “It’s like I’m seven again.”

“Now you know how I feel every time I look at you.”

_He came for a business trip and never left._

“Uh,” Harry dropped Zayn’s hands, “Right. Um…” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as Zayn cocked his head at him in confusion. “Should we go up then?”

“...Yeah,” Zayn nodded slowly, and raised his eyebrows at the stairs. “Go check it out.”

Harry’s breath shuddered, feeling even worse about this situation as it was, but now it was just too late to mention it. How could he bring up the fact that Zayn was trying to make him his mistress? “You even set up lights, that’s calm.”

Zayn smiled from behind him. “I kept that one piece of wood, though,” They got to the top and Harry tenuously stepped inside. “Hung it on the wall.”

“Ha, Z + H.” Harry fingered the crude engraving. “I never staked you for a romantic, Zayn Fores...Malik.”

“Remember when we used to play house? God, that was so stupid, we’d fight on who’d be the husband and wife. You always brought those really shitty brownies that taste like toothpaste and I’d bring you little stones and we’d stack them up and compete to see who could make theirs higher…” Zayn rambled as he shrugged off his coat and hung it up on one of the adorable hooks and Harry did the same. “I downloaded some movies on my Ipad, I thought we could just chill out here for a minute, like how we used to. Sounds, sounds good?” Zayn looked nervous, and Harry boiled it down to how he himself must be giving off that energy to begin with.

So he started to relax, forced the most genuine smile he could muster. “Yeah, sounds good.” He fiddled around until he spotted the blankets and pillows in one of the corners, sat down and patted the space next to him for Zayn to follow.

Zayn turned on a superhero movie and immediately pulled Harry into his arms, one of his hands flying to his chest for agency. “Stay close, you’re shivering.”

Harry’s gasping quickly turned into choked heaving, heart beating a million miles a minute with his ear pressed to Zayn’s chest. “Zayn?”

“Yeah, babe?” Zayn whispered, low and gruff, which didn’t help the shiver that had been teasing the bottom of Harry’s neck for the last thirty minutes. “Are you okay?”

No. I’m not okay. “Yeah,” Harry nearly drooled from anxiety, “This is, this is great. I’m fine.” He squeezed his eyes shut when he could hear Zayn’s heartbeat, calm and steady. Just what the hell was he doing? “Wait, I’m not fine.”

“What’s wrong?” Zayn asked softly, pausing the movie and turning to face him. He began to push Harry’s hair out of his face and for a moment he didn’t want to say anything at all and just go back to enjoying the moment. “Haz?”

Harry sucked in a sharp inhale, “Zayn, I can’t do this.”

Zayn pulled back almost instantly, which hurt somewhere in Harry’s heart just a little bit. “Oh, uh, oh, I’m, shit, I’m sorry—“

“No no, I mean,” Harry stuttered, both pairs of eyes wide and terrified, “Zayn, you’re—you’re—you’re married.”

When the words came out, Harry’s lungs felt like they were going to collapse. They stared at each other for a solid ten seconds without blinking or breaking eye contact, until Zayn’s face finally fell first and turned away. “Wait, you thought…?”

“Uh,” Was all Harry could say. His body couldn’t move.

“Harry,” Zayn was frowning, oh god, he looked sad, oh god, “My husband died two years ago.”

Harry thought he was going to throw up, “You didn’t say any...oh fuck.”

Zayn just sat there and looked like a kicked puppy, “You thought I was some cheater trying to have fun with you behind his back?” He said it in a disbelieving scoff, “You’ve known me our entire lives, Harry, how could you think that?”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Harry blabbed, “I should’ve said something earlier,”

“I mean, I just assumed you heard from someone in town or something, because you never pushed me off or anything and,” Zayn’s voice cracked. Harry contemplated flinging himself out of the tree house. “Do you really think I’m that kind of person?” His eyes watered. “I thought you of all people would understand,” He stood up abruptly, as though he couldn’t fathom the idea of being close to Harry. “I thought you wanted me back?”

“I…” Harry was stuck, a frog in his throat, a knife between his ribs, it felt like he got soap in his eyes. “Zayn, I’m sorry,”

Zayn didn’t answer him, just stared at the wall turned away from him, right at the plank of wood with their initials signed onto it. The second Harry saw him grab it, his knuckles white from how hard his grip was, he stood up and went right for the door. “I’m so sorry, Zayn, I’ll leave, okay? I’ll…make it up to you, I promise.” He whimpered when he nearly misplaced a step tripped on the stairs.

“Harry, wait,” Zayn sounded concerned, and fuck all if that was what Harry wanted, so in a panic he went to step down to the next stair, but tripped again and his hand flew towards the door.

“Uhhaagh!” Harry shrieked, the door slamming forwards and he heard a loud smack happen at the other end.

“Ow, fuck!” He heard Zayn cry out, and Harry just sobbed, willed his shaking knees to stand up and fling himself down the steps as fast as he could.

He always ruined everything, always. In his rush, he hadn’t even thought to grab his coat. He got to the bottom of the tree, a boot trudging onto the snow. It was still snowing, the sheet of white nearly two feet thick.

Not only was he a complete and utter clutz, but he also had no sense of direction whatsoever. Even earlier when he had “jumped” off of the roof, he missed the mark so badly Zayn had to run to where he was heading towards. His idea of direction is convincing himself that “that tree looks familiar” when all of them look identical.

It got even worse when he heard a sound coming from deep inside the forest, the rustling of bushes and hooves knocking together in the packed snow.

_There’s lots of wild boar that run around in this area, it’s pretty dangerous._

“Fuck,” Harry spat so anxiously that he bit the inside of his cheek, shaking so hard that he was pretty sure God could hear his teeth chattering. There was another rustle, a few grunts, some guttural oinks, and Harry felt faint. There was snow in his hair and the thin long sleeve he was wearing was doing absolutely nothing to insulate his body. His toes were frozen, he couldn’t feel his fingers, and when the rustling got even closer, he started running again.

His legs were going stiff and it was getting painful to breathe, but his instinct of self-preservation had never been so strong in his entire life. The adrenaline was forcing his brain to thinking that he had enough in the cogs to make it far away from the danger, but before he knew it, his legs gave out and his face was coming into direct contact with white.

“Harry!” He heard a voice echo out.

God, if you can still hear me, please just let me die with the least amount of shame possible here. He thought fruitlessly, because even as his brain was freezing up, the familiar footsteps of a man so good were getting closer.

“Fuck,” Zayn was on the verge of tears, holding Harry’s coat in one hand as he dropped to his knees. “Baby, you okay? Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He lifted him up into his arms and wrapped him up like a burrito, “Your lips are blue. Hazza?”

“Cold,” Harry whispered, like an idiot, and Zayn sighed in relief. “Zaynie, sorry.”

“Hey, shush,” Zayn kissed his forehead and hoisted them up together. “Let’s go back to my house, okay? We have to talk.”

“M’kay,” Harry didn’t want to panic at how his fingers were refusing to bend, but his heart was beating so slowly he didn’t think anything could make him panic in that moment. Zayn was so warm, wide, and smelled so damn good, he just wanted to close his eyes. “Sorry, Zaynie.”

“Shush, I said,” Zayn repeated, keeping Harry close. “I’m gonna build a fire, make some cocoa. You hurt anywhere?”

“My ankle’s sore,” Harry admitted softly, instinctively shifting his head to kiss Zayn’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I think you landed on it when you fell.”

“You saw me fall?”

“Well, no,” Zayn grunted as he kicked his door open, “I heard you. You made this, sort of, uh, squawking noise? Pretty good timing too, I was just about to lose your tracks.”

Harry murmured when Zayn him down on a large armchair. “And you said you weren’t much of a forester.”

“I’m not out there shooting down any game to dry during the winter, am I?” Zayn tossed some firewood into the fire place, struggling with a couple of matches. “Ah, shit, can’t even light a fire.”

“Cold,”

“I know, stupid, just sit there looking pretty for one second, alright?” Zayn scrunched his nose up in concentration. “Okay, fuck this, I’m turning the heater on.”

“This isn’t your house,” Harry said dumbly, still a bit delirious, possibly feverish.

Zayn laughed, cranking up the thermostat and coming back to shake the snow out of Harry’s hair, removing his boots and wet shirt. “I moved out of my parent’s place a long time ago, Harry.”

“So did I,” Harry let him strip him down. “But I didn’t get married, I was sent away.”

“Hm,” Zayn didn’t know what to say to that. “I’m going to grab you some clothes, sit tight.”

Harry nodded, watching Zayn disappear into the hall. The house was gorgeous, lovely, not too big nor small, furnished with rich mahogany and warm tones, stained glass windows, a grand mantle framing an impressive fireplace and paintings tastefully accenting the walls.

Harry just let Zayn dress him up again, sat there helpless and just stared at him for a while. “You look like you have some questions.”

“I should’ve known since you’re wearing your ring on your right hand,”

“Uh huh,”

“And…sorry, I’m stupid.” Harry sounded sad, and Zayn hated it.

Zayn laughed at him, “Hi stupid, I’m Zayn.”

Harry rolled his eyes, then pointed at a photo on the mantle. “Is that him?”

“Yeah,” Zayn brought the frame over, “Ollie. He was a web designer.”

“What happened?” Harry wriggled to give Zayn some space. Once he accepted his invitation to cuddle, Zayn squeezed Harry close.

“There was an accident.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Zayn sighed, “We were only married for a year. Never thought we’d last anyways.”

“Still, that’s pretty brutal,” Harry looked up at him, and swore he could see Zayn’s eyes melt into his head. “You loved him lots.”

“I did,” Zayn twirled a lock of Harry’s hair around his finger. “He taught me lots. About love and stuff, about all the things I missed.”

Harry blinked, “What kinds of things?”

“I dunno, picking up a clumsy twat every time he falls face first onto the floor?” Zayn laughed, making Harry go absolutely dizzy. “Drawing pictures of said twat when he wasn’t looking?”

Harry hummed, “Sweet. Who?”

Zayn covered his face with one hand and groaned, “Come on, you’re joking me.”

Harry blushed, “Didn’t want to assume.”

“Just ask. Always ask. Please,” Zayn reached down to kiss Harry softly. “I’ve loved you since the day we met, Harry Styles. Never stopped.”

“You married someone.”

“You left,” Zayn pointed out. “You were out there somewhere, living a really big life and looking so happy. I thought it was time to move on, that you were never bad luck, that it was me. I’d be an idiot to lie and say that I don’t still love you.”

Harry gulped. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“What about saying it back?”

It was burdensome, “The last time I told someone I loved them they left.”

“Well, that was never your fault, your dad’s just an imbecile.” Zayn scoffed.

“I love you,” Harry whispered like he didn’t want anyone to hear. “Don’t leave now. Bad luck, me saying that.”

Zayn shifted them and hovered over Harry, “Say it again,” He kissed his neck as his hands slipped under his own pajama shirt. “Haz.”

“You put clothes on me just to take them off?” Harry asked, gasping when Zayn pinched his nipples. “We’re gonna…here?”

“Yeah, you can hold onto the armrests,” Zayn joked, and Harry groaned, alarmed by the way Zayn was gripping onto his body like he was about to eat him. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” Harry quickly interjected, “I just don’t know if I want to get railed in your armchair, Zaynie.”

“You were so eager to fling yourself out of a treehouse earlier just to be rid of me, and now you’re saying you draw the line at chair sex?”

“I would rather get rug burn.”

“You are so, so strange,” Zayn got up and yanked Harry’s hips to the end of the seat, getting in between them and wrapped his legs around his waist. “I guess you’re getting acquainted with my bed, then.”

Harry was sure that he was red to his ears, but nodded as seductively as he could, stumbling into the bedroom with one of his hands in Zayn’s hair. “You know, my first time was in a maintenance closet on the Eiffel Tower?”

“Gross,” Zayn laughed, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it over his head, abs and wide shoulders punctuated against his pants. “I bet it hurt like hell.”

“Never saw Paris the same way ever again,” Harry gasped when Zayn’s lips went back down onto his neck, sucking on his collarbones as his hands held onto his waist firmly. “I like it…I like being held down.”

“I could tell,” Zayn mumbled, fluffy hair flopping about and tickling Harry’s skin. “I can’t believe I’m here right now, with you, like this. I think I’ve been having dreams about this moment for years and would’ve never expected it to happen like this.”

Harry flipped himself over and lifted one of his knees. “Then in Edinburgh, this guy squeezed my hips so hard I had bruises for days.”

“Uh huh,” Zayn sounded like he was enjoying these small anecdotes, admiring the way Harry’s body moved and flexed underneath him. “You like that?”

“I like it a lot,” Harry whispered, looking back at him. “I’m a model for a reason, yeah? It took so long for the girls to cover them up for a shoot, I was all hot and bothered and thinking about him the entire time.”

Zayn groaned, then reached over to the nightstand. “Haz…”

“I’m not the same, Zaynie,” Harry’s breath hitched when he heard a cap snap open. “I’m not some mouse, you know?”

Zayn’s body blanketed his, lips touching the base of his neck and chest pressed to his back. “Yea, you’re not. God, look at you, Haz. Fucking ethereal,” He bit Harry’s skin. “Turn around.”

Harry listened, panting heavily when Zayn’s hand went in between his thighs and circled around his hole. “You good?”

“Do I want this, is that what you’re asking?” Harry puffed up his cheeks and scrunched his nose up at Zayn. “Yeah, I do.”

“Good,” Zayn pushed his middle finger in just as Harry swooped him down for a kiss. “Aw, babe, just breathe.”

“Your fingers are a lot bigger than I thought they were,” Harry hid his face in Zayn’s neck, letting out the sweetest little “ah”s every time Zayn pumped the digit in and out. “How am I gonna get in here, babe?”

Harry gave him a look, “You always ask questions I never want to answer. It’s never about who the hottest Bond babe is or what my favorite food is or who I would totally fuck from Fall Out Boy—“

“Ew, you’d fuck someone from Fall Out Boy?” Zayn questioned, giggling more when Harry smacked his chest. “Sorry, I didn’t know you’d want to talk about food while I’m literally knuckle deep inside you.”

“My favorite color is yellow, did you know that?” Harry gasped when Zayn added a third finger. “Go slower, Zaynie, you’re seeming desperate.”

Zayn nodded, “I knew that. And to the second thing, what if I am? Desperate, I mean?”

“You really wanna admit that?” Harry’s toes clenched when Zayn’s other hand traveled to his cock. “What’re you gonna do to me?”

There was some shifting involved, Harry back onto his stomach with his hips in the air. Zayn pulled down his pants, shrugged them off and the former heard the belt buckle clang against the bed frame. He had a lovely mattress. Harry wanted to ruin it.

“Open you up nice and slow, but part of me just wants to split you right now because I know you’d feel fucking insane on my cock,” Zayn gripped his hips tightly and thumbed the dimples at the base of Harry’s spine. “Sorry babe, been dreaming about this since I was fourteen.”

Harry reached behind him for a kiss, but to his shock, Zayn just gently pushed his face back down. “Oh my god.”

Zayn laughed softly, ripping open a condom packet with his teeth. “Shit, this ass,” He gave Harry’s left cheek a light smack, inducing another gasp. “Next time, I’m just gonna eat you out for a few hours.”

“Oh god,” Harry wailed, gripping the bedsheets when he felt Zayn thumb his hole again. “You used to recite fucking Shakespearean sonnets and now your mouth’s gone off,”

“I haven’t been corrupted, you meanie,” Zayn kissed his back. “Just probably won’t be able to get enough of you. You’re something of a god in these parts.”

“You’re the only one who lives on this side of the forest,” Harry snorted. “Hurry.”

“I’m trying,” Zayn laughed, steadying Harry’s hips and positioning his dick to his entrance. “Relax, okay?”

Harry nodded and tried to take deep breaths. When the head caught on his rim, he flinched forwards, biting his lip as Zayn tried to gently push in more.

“Sweetheart,” Zayn’s voice was soft, “Baby, can’t get in. You...you never actually had your first time on the Eiffel Tower, did you?” He bent over him just to place kisses on his neck. “You’re shaking.” When he tried one more time, Harry whimpered and squeezed even tighter.

Harry shook his head, “No, m’okay,” but Zayn wasn’t having it. “Zaynie,” he whined.

Zayn sighed at him, turning his face towards him snuggle their noses together. “You got me. What an actor.”

“Don’t leave,” Harry whispered, and Zayn snorted. “Oh right, this is your house.”

Zayn kissed his forehead, “I guess I’ll just open you up nice and slow.” His fingers made their way to Harry again, feeling him up for a little bit before pushing in. “This feel okay?”

Harry nodded, eyes fluttering shut. “Why’re you...?”

“I’m trying to find it,” Zayn concentrated deeply, curling his fingers inside Harry, gently feeling up the walls and relishing in just how warm he was. “You’re beautiful.”

Harry’s never noticed before (for obvious reasons), but Zayn had a gorgeous cock. He’d never been near many of them, but after years of sifting through really bad porn his entire life, he was pretty sure he could tell when someone was well-endowed. “This isn’t fair,”

“What’s not fair?” Zayn was biting at his ear.

“You’re pretty everywhere,” Harry moaned when Zayn nipped at his neck, gently coaxing his fingers to massage at his prostate. “Literally everywhere.”

“You’re too sweet, baby. Hard to tell you were shivering in my arms just a little bit ago,” Zayn held Harry’s jaw and dropped it, the action was so dominant that he went a little dizzy. “Your favorite food is baked ziti.”

“Yeah,” Harry affirmed breathlessly, eyes closed. “Yours is too.” He had one hand gripped tightly onto Zayn’s forearm, trying to steady his breathing as Zayn firmly held him right where he was. It wasn’t that he was scared or frightened in any way that he was shaking like this, but because he had never been so in love like this before. He’d been kissed till he was bruised on balconies overseeing the seas of Greece, fingered under the table at fancy dinner parties, been gifted presents that cost more than a month’s rent, but this somehow topped it all. “If you keep teasing, I’ll leave.”

“You wouldn’t,” Zayn smiled coyly at him, licking a stripe up the side of Harry’s neck like he was a vanilla cone at Ellis Island. Or maybe in Central Park. Or Chicago. Somewhere. Harry was somewhere, not in the middle of the woods with a man he just realized he didn’t actually know all that well. “I know you.”

Harry relaxed a little bit, his trembling getting fainter. “You know me,”

“I do, more than anyone in this whole town, Harry.”

“I don’t know you,”

“Again, you left,” Zayn poked his sternum and pulled his fingers out of Harry in the next second. “I didn’t know how to make you regret it then. How to call you and say that you should come back for a stupid kid like me, but I think I do now.” Zayn grunted softly when he accidentally pinched the tip of his cock in an attempt to roll the condom on. Harry bit his lip, laying back on his elbows before eventually helping Zayn slide it the rest of the way down.

Now he was scared, “Zayn, I think I love you.”

Zayn didn’t respond, just molded their lips together and fitted Harry’s legs around his waist. “If it hurts, I’ll stop.”

“You aren’t gonna say it back?” Harry asked meekly, arms hooked underneath Zayn’s and gripping at his shoulders.

“Harry, I sawed out a piece of wood that had our initials on it and hung it up on the wall. I think I deserve to be given this one pass as to not completely embarrass myself,” Zayn aligned himself to Harry’s hole, looking up at him one more time for reassurance, “I know you’re just trying to make me shy.”

They laughed quietly together, and if there were words to explain what Zayn felt as he watched Harry’s eyes flutter shut, the tightness around his cock gripping so sweetly, the smell of Harry’s shampoo accompanied with his own sweat, maybe the world would’ve made a bit more sense. “But you know what, I love you, Harry. You know that.”

The boy bit down at his shoulder and whimpered when Zayn bottomed out flush against his hips. “Oh, fuck.” The tone of his voice made Zayn’s eyes go wide and immediately move to pull out, but Harry dug the soles of his feet into Zayn’s back and shook his head.

“I want it,” Harry stammered, shaking like a leaf underneath Zayn’s body. “I think we should stop talking now.”

Zayn nodded in agreement, pushing back in with a bit more conviction than before. It was mind-boggling how he had this unseeable power to render Harry completely at his will, completely entranced by the way his eyelashes would flutter when he clamped down around him and bit at his neck.

“Love you,” Harry managed to make out when Zayn gripped his legs from behind his knees and spread them wider, his body glistening and firm from his neck down to his calves. This was someone that Harry had never seen before, “Come back.”

Zayn smiled, a little bit of hair sticking to his forehead like he meant to place it there. “Just tryna make you feel good, baby.”

He rocked in and Harry wailed, scrambling to grab at his arms and whimpered through tightly bitten lips. It was rough, animalistic, and he had no idea that Zayn’s voice could get that low. “Zayn, you’re gonna make me come.”

Zayn looked up at him from where he was catatonically staring at the place where they were connected, smiling with wide and perfect teeth, his tongue sticking out ever so slightly in smugness. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry moaned in relief when Zayn finally came back down to blanket his body, his legs were so sore and spent that they were shaking. “Harder?”

Zayn laughed like he couldn’t believe it. “Yeah, baby. Don’t draw blood,” He helped Harry’s hands to rest on his back, then bullied into him so hard that he was pushed up towards the headboard.

Harry’s dick was leaking between their stomachs, his nails were digging into Zayn’s skin, and he just couldn’t seem to breathe. Zayn wasn’t letting go of his lips, his hand moving towards Harry’s neck to gently hold right underneath his jaw. No squeezing, just keeping it there, grounding him and making Harry whimper louder. “Oh my god,”

“You okay?” Zayn pulled back to ask, looking back down at the way his own hips were moving.

“Mhm,” Harry groaned, jaw dropping when Zayn all of a sudden shoved his hips so harshly into him that he began to squirm from discomfort. “Mm,”

“Turn around, baby,” Zayn’s tongue inched its way into Harry’s mouth, cooing at how he hissed as he pulled out, then patted his bum, “Turn ‘round, I said.”

There was a very loud shriek when Harry’s hips were unceremoniously yanked up to the sky, Zayn’s hands gripping his sides so tightly that there were bruises already forming. “So much easier like this.”

“Fuck,” Harry managed to sputter out with his cheek smushed against the bedsheets. “Wait, Zayn—“

Just then, Zayn’s pelvis smacked against Harry’s arse. “Nngh!” Zayn groaned at that, grabbing handfuls and yanking Harry back onto his dick. “Just stay like that, baby, okay?”

Harry clenched weakly around him, which was a completely fucking mistake, because he didn’t realize just how full he was until then. “Zayn,” he whined, “Can’t, can’t take it.”

Zayn just laughs, “I was just about to say how good you are at taking it, Hazza,” He leans forward, which only makes Harry shriek, “You still good? We can stop.”

“Oh, I’ll kill you if you stop,” Harry pants, turning around to pull Zayn’s hair closer to his face. They kiss for a while, not letting go of Zayn’s hair until his grip on his hips lets up. “Go slow,”

“Boring,” Zayn says jokingly, but smiles through it as his eyes flutter lovingly. “Where have you been, Hazza?” He asks, crawling forwards and gently pushing Harry back down onto the bed. “Where’ve you been?”

Harry can’t respond, not with Zayn’s fingers down his throat, so he just moans softly and sucks on the digits as the boy behind him begins to roll his hips again. Zayn’s body is so firm, it should be illegal. That’s what Harry’s decided; he’ll become a lawyer and sue Zayn for being so fucking firm everywhere and pretty and having a pretty dick and stealing his goddamn heart—“Unngh, oh my god, oh my god,”

“You close, baby?” Zayn whispers in his ear, which is such a shit-face move, because it makes Harry rut on the bed desperately, gripping the pillows like they did him some cruel injustice. Zayn groans, “Feels like you are.”

“Fuck,” Harry cries, feeling Zayn bend his knee up. “Zayn, ‘m close.” He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling Zayn thrust in even faster, his hands pushing down on his wrists. “Gonna, gonna come.”

“Come on, baby,” Zayn kisses his neck, continuing to thrust at a steady pace while Harry squirms underneath him. “You’re so beautiful, love,”

Harry makes a strangled noise and takes Zayn’s fingers out of his mouth, intertwining them with his own instead as he shoots him a look. “Zayn, I,”

“Yeah, baby,” Zayn apparently say anything without attaching “baby” at the end, his own hair stuck to his face and his eyes getting glassier by the second. “Baby,” He does it again.

“Need to see you,”Harry whines, painfully close, squeezing his toes around Zayn’s calves as he tries and shoves back against Zayn. “Kisses.”

“Jesus, you’re so cute,” Zayn complies, lovingly pulling out and rolling Harry over into his arms. They make sure to keep eye contact as he pushes back in, Harry’s squeal enough to make Zayn come an extra time, interlocked hands yet again, a glint in their eyes, Zayn’s stomach rubbing against Harry’s red cock. “Come on, baby.”

“‘M trying,” Harry’s on the verge of tears, then begins to shiver when Zayn kisses at his neck. “Oh my god.”

“There we go,” Zayn coos, brushing the hair out of Harry’s face as he begins to come, face contorting into wild pleasure and his eyes rolling back into his head. “Fuck baby, clamping down on me,” He fucks Harry through it, who gives a sob in response, chasing his own orgasm until Harry starts crying in his neck. “Almost...there,” He grits out, Harry holding onto him for dear life as he finishes in his condom and his hand flies towards the wet puddle of come on Harry’s stomach. “Fuck.”

Harry, oversensitive, is now crying, softly pawing at Zayn’s chest as he situates himself even deeper inside of him, weakly protesting the way Zayn’s hips are grinding down onto his abused prostate. “Zayn, ‘lease,”

“Love you, baby.” Zayn sighs, kissing Harry one more time before slowly leaving, holding Harry’s hand as he tried to take himself out as gently as he could.

“‘M sleepy,”

“I know,” Zayn laughed, not being able to help but kiss him again. “Love you.”

“Love you.”

+++

Harry could vaguely feel a hand graze his cheek, scuffling about around his head. “Hm?”

“Shit, woke you up,” Zayn whispered, then a kiss was placed on Harry’s head, and that was that. “Haz?”

“Hm,” Harry affirmed, gently moving his legs as he shifted onto his side, “Hmm,”

“Yeah,” Zayn chuckled, and by the time Harry got an eye open, he was already staring right back at him, a pencil in his right hand with a notebook in his left. “Go back to sleep, haven’t finished describing your face yet.”

“M’ face?” Harry asked groggily, closing his throbbing eyes. “Oh gosh, what time is it?”

“It’s like, almost dinner time,” Zayn sighed, another scribble making contact with paper. “You slept for like two hours, babe.”

“You writin’ something?” Harry hummed, trying to force himself awake. “Whatcha writing?”

“I’m no Emily Dickinson, but,” Zayn laughed, a hand reaching forwards to rake through his hair. “I’m writing a fucking poem about your face, Harry Styles. Does that shock you?”

“Yeah,” Harry grinned cheekily at him. “Zayn Forester, the hopeless romantic.”

“Malik,” Zayn corrected softly, “I’m Zayn Malik, babe. Remember?”

“Right, right,” Harry nodded, willing himself to sit up. “Can I read?”

“Hell no,” Zayn laughed like he couldn’t believe Harry even asked, “No way. Never, not even after I’m dead.”

“That’s no fair,” Harry cuddled up against him, giving him the big doe-eyes until Zayn finally relented and slung an arm around his shoulders. “I let you do some pretty wild things to me.”

Zayn raised and eyebrow at him before slamming his notebook shut and set it down on his nightstand. “That you did. How was that, by the way?”

“Unreal,” Harry admitted, “But exactly like I’d imagined.”

“You’d imagined bedding me?” Zayn giggled, poking Harry’s nose. “I don’t know whether to feel flattered or objectified.”

“Everyone in Fable has probably had a fantasy about bedding you, Zayn Malik,” Harry’s heart jumped into his throat when Zayn leaned down to kiss him again, as if air didn’t exist and the sky was rolling upside down. “Shit, gotta get home.”

“Why?” Zayn frowned, keeping a firm hold on Harry’s body. “Stay.”

“My mom’s throwing that thing, you know?” Harry sighed, eyes looking around to find his clothes. “Unfortunately, the real world is catching up. She’ll flip her shit if I’m not there.”

“Haz,” Zayn reluctantly let go, watching Harry pull on his shirt and trousers. “I meant what I said.”

Harry froze, in the middle of deciding which buckle he would fasten his belt to. “Right, yeah.”

“You know, when I was—“

“Yeah,”

“That I—“

“Yeah.” Harry cut him off as politely as he could, swallowing deep in his throat as he ruffled his hair about. “I’ll see you there, okay? We can, we can talk there. Promise.”

Zayn didn’t believe him, “Okay.”

“Promise,” Harry gave him a weak smile, which was such bullshit on his part, but what else was he to do? He just fucked Zayn Forester, the town’s most beautiful pine tree and his childhood best friend who he abandoned and will probably have to abandon again. What was Harry to say, “Oh yes, I’m going to come back to this shoddy hillbilly town where the people think I’m cursed and leave the life I’ve made oceans and oceans away for you, one beautiful boy...”

Who’d he absolutely die for. That was the problem. He just made love to Zayn Forester, the town’s most beautiful pine tree, who had never let go of the place in Harry’s heart, a whole chamber of emotions and memories in which he resided in for over ten years. “I promise, no more disappearing acts or running.”

“How’d you know I was going to bring that up?” Zayn joked, raising a perfect eyebrow and making Harry’s heart dim a little bit more. “Do you have to go? God, I sound clingy.”

“Trust me,” Harry laughed, but his voice was still so hoarse that it sounded like he was crying, “If I said all the words I wanna say right now I’d sound like I’d die without you.”

They made eye contact as Harry pulled on his hat. “Please come to the party, my mom’s making toothpaste brownies and popping out the expensive champagne. I digress; it’s nearly Christmas, you know? Let’s not do this now.”

Zayn shook his head, but smiled nevertheless. “Alright. And to think I was gonna show you my book of poetry.”

Harry turned around to raise an eyebrow back at him, “You better bring it with you.” He closed the door after that, his breath shakily chasing his footsteps.

Truth is, no one had ever asked Harry to stay before.

“Harry, wait.” He stopped in his tracks. “Let me walk you home, love.”

Fuck, Harry wanted to dramatically grab his heart. It was on the verge of happening, but then Zayn came up behind him and pulled his waist close. “I already know you’re gonna get lost.”

“Rude,” Harry snorted, secretly becoming addicted to the way Zayn was holding him. “I can walk myself.”

“Not in this neck of the woods,” Zayn sighed, lips instinctively coming forward to rest on Harry’s head. “The boar might be on the other side, but I know exactly where Harry Styles would stop.”

“What do you mean?” Harry settled for holding Zayn’s mitten clad hand. “Did your mom make these? They’re so cute.”

“Yeah,” Zayn blushed, making sure Harry didn’t trip over a log. “I came home once and the backs of my hands were bleeding, she got really ticked.”

“Zayn,” Harry felt like something was gripping onto his head, “Thank you.”

They approached deeper and deeper into the gaggle of trees and white blankets of snow, the air becoming sharper by the second. “I know why you’re walking me home.”

“Uh, let’s go this way, yeah?” Zayn tried, gently tugging on Harry’s hand, but he shook his head.

“No, this way’s shorter,” Harry bit his lip. “I’m a big boy, Zayn.”

“Alright,” Zayn shrugged. “I just thought it’d be too much.”

Harry laughed, this time pulling Zayn close to him. “I’m not afraid of a little spot in the forest, Forester.”

“Malik, Harry. It’s Malik.”

“No, you’ll always be Forester to me,” Harry finally rejected it, pouting until Zayn came close again to kiss his forehead. “My shitface of a dad abandoned me here,” They got to the center of a perfect circle of trees, their footsteps marking a radius through it. “And then he ran away, made a whole new life for himself, and went on and died somewhere else.”

“Haz,”

“And that’s fine,” Harry definitely did not sound fine. “Because then my mom sent me away to boarding school and everyone called me bad luck, because why bring me to be witness? Surely I was the reason in the first place. Then he went ahead and died without ever having the decency to come back once and say something. He was always so quiet,”

“Haz,”

“And nice, and everyone thought, ‘Oh, what did Anne do to drive such a sweet man away? What did Harry do?’ And honestly,”

Zayn tucked Harry’s face under his chin and held him close. “You shouldn’t blame yours—“

“I’m done acting like I did anything wrong.”

Zayn’s breath could be seen escaping into the chilly air. “Oh.” Harry was red in the face and looked like he was going to cry, but he merely sniffled, grabbed Zayn’s hand, and continued on their way.

“I didn’t come back for my dad, or my mom, or you, or to prove anything, I just came back because I have a right to,” Harry’s voice was getting croaky, Zayn could already tell he was going to catch a cold if they stayed out here too much longer. “I have a right to, don’t I?”

“No one thinks you’re bad luck, Haz, honest.” Zayn whispered softly, seeing the grand Styles estate become bigger and bigger in their eye line. “And I’ll beat up whoever does.”

They held onto each other for dear life, as if they were trying to channel ten years worth of memories and lost time through the connection of their fingers, desperate for an answer on all the things that could’ve been and or shouldn’t have been.

If you were to ask Harry what shouldn’t have been, he would say that Zayn Forester should’ve never become Zayn Malik. If you were to ask Zayn, he would say that Harry Styles shouldn’t have had to ‘come back.’

“I wasn’t just describing your face,” They were approaching the front door at a dangerous rate. “I was also trying to write about your personality and stuff.”

“Gee, that’s really flattering,” Harry smiled sweet at him. “I dunno what to say to something so sappy like that, Zee.”

Zee. Zayn could die. “Don’t go.”

“I’m right here.”

“I mean, don’t go back to Paris or Milan or fuckin’ Japan or anywhere else, Haz,” Zayn’s lips were chapped and angry at him for making them move. “‘Cause I love you.”

Harry twiddled the thumb resting on Zayn’s hand. “Come in for cocoa?”

Zayn didn’t even think about it or respond, just followed Harry into the house like he was a dog, blind and lovesick and foolish. “I love you, I said.”

“Oh, mom already had some on the stove,” Harry commented shakily. “Wanna drink it outside, like we used to?”

“Say it back,”

“It’s not that easy,”

“Why not? I’ve been waiting ten years and two names to say it.” Zayn said adamantly, pouting his fiercest pout right into Harry’s heart.

“I love you,” Harry sat them down on the patio, letting go of Zayn’s hand to grip his mug with both. “I love you, there, I said it.”

There was silence for a while. Zayn didn’t know how to fix it, how to solve it, how to make it better. Harry looked cold, he wanted to tell him to go inside, that he’d just be on his merry way back home and see him at the party later.

He looked down at the mug Harry handed him in all the drama, how the edges of his hot chocolate were beginning to become matte and freeze. “Haz.”

“Hm?” Harry croaked, and he was for sure coming down with something, the sickly boy.

“When we were kids, my mom was sending me to all these private writing classes, right, because I was so bad at English and at this rate I’d never become a nobel laureate like my dad,” Zayn mocked, just to make Harry smile, “So for a really long time, I just thought in poetry, because that’s all my teacher ever taught and read to me.”

“Cute,” Harry reminisced with him. “Baby Zayn, speaking in Elizabethan English.”

Zayn shook his head, laughing, “One day it was winter, like this,” he referred to the white all around them. “We were drinking cocoa or mulled cider or some shit out on the roof outside of your window, and I just kept staring at the way your cup would steam while mine was just freezin’ by the edges. I thought then that I would give everything just to watch the way you’d breathe in the steam and say over and over again how much you love cinnamon—I guess it was mulled cider—and watch the snow melt in your stupid hair and the way you’d laugh when you’d catch me staring. Because that’s how much I loved you.” It was like a rubber band had been let go right at his heart, at the chamber in which Harry had been residing in for so long.

“Zee?”

“When you left, every single winter, even the one winter with my fucking husband, I’d think about it. So when he mentioned moving back to New York and taking me with him, I said no,” Zayn could feel tears pool at the corners of his eyes. “I said some bullshit that I was too attached to the woods and my childhood home. It took so long, but he finally listened after a while. Then he died, and I was stuck living in a stupid house in the woods I didn’t actually care about waiting for a boy who probably never thought about me.”

Harry looked down at his mug, his cocoa had gone cold. “Zayn, I love you.”

“You’re stupid, you know that, Harry?” Zayn put his mug down and began to cry, Harry choosing at that moment to wrap his arms around his neck. “If the people who love you don’t exist to you, then of course you’d forget me.”

“No,” Harry protested. “Zee,”

“I’ve been waiting for so long to cry in front of you and make you feel like shit for never coming back,” Zayn laughed and Harry laughed with him, “What the hell were you doing on the top of the Eiffel Tower? I don’t care.”

“Mhm,” Harry kissed at his neck and shoulders. “I love you, baby.”

“And who the hell drinks hot beverages in below zero weather? That’s so counterintuitive and now you’re burning up.” Zayn clicked his tongue, swinging Harry’s long legs around his waist before standing up.

“So strong,”

“Damn straight,” Zayn mumbled, walking into the house with a shivering Harry clutched to his chest.

“Kiss?” Harry asked innocently as they walked up the stairs, Zayn going ten different shades of red when he said it. “Zee, kiss,”

“Promise you won’t leave.”

“But it‘s a round trip ticket—“

“Look at this house, Harry Styles, and tell me you can’t let one round trip ticket go to waste,” Zayn raised an eyebrow at him as he tossed Harry onto the bed.

“Are you undressing me? Why are you undressing me,” Harry murmured, spreading himself out on the bed wider for Zayn’s ease. “There’s such a thing called being sore, Zayn.”

“You’re covered in snow, it’ll melt,” Zayn said softly, and Harry hates it when his voice gets all soft like that, “Where’re your pjs?”

“Over there,” Harry sniffled, holding onto Zayn’s collar gently as his hand reached over. “Love you.”

“Love you.” Zayn repeated, wincing at the sound of Harry’s cough. “You’re getting sick, aren’t you, babe?”

“No,” Harry refused the treatment, flipping them over. “I want to suck your dick.”

“The correlation between those things is something I cannot find,” Zayn shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, gasping when Harry expertly yanked his pants down. “Wait, are you actually going to?”

Harry let out a hot breath onto Zayn’s clothed cock, closing his eyes in the most seductive way he could’ve managed in that moment. “Wanna choke on it.”

“Well, fuck,” Zayn laughed, letting Harry manhandle his dick in his hands until it was unleashed and lying heavy in Harry’s palm. “Here I was, all nostalgic about once being kids.”

“I was never a kid, Zayn,” was the last thing Harry said before his lips closed around the head of his cock, eyes fluttering almost reflexively as he stared right up into Zayn’s eyes. The moan he got was so worth it, he decided, as he pushed his own head down lower and lower down the shaft, not stopping until he could feel it pushing against the back of his throat and his nose buried in Zayn’s pubes.

“Fuck, baby,” Zayn grabbed his hair and Harry moaned, sending vibrations through him and making him choke a bit, tears rolling down his face. “God, I love you.”

Harry whimpered at that, pulling off slowly whilst bobbing his head and tonguing the vein that ran on the underside. There was something so sexy about it, the way Zayn had full control of his mouth and his hair and his body, like he suddenly wasn’t his own anymore.

“Harry, babe,” He could hear Zayn whisper to him in his low voice, the voice that came out when he first woke up and heard Zayn scribble lines onto a page, a voice so deep Harry thought he was drowning in the ocean. “Gonna come if you keep...”

Harry was sucking hard now, making sure Zayn couldn’t break eye contact with him as he choked again, the tight heat of his mouth getting softer and more relaxed around the length of his cock. Zayn pulled on his hair again, and that was that, Harry fumbled to unzip his own jeans and palm at his dick, panting and moaning around the one in his mouth.

He saw Zayn’s abs flex and tense in front of him, his toes curling next to Harry’s knees. He closed his eyes as he waited for Zayn to pull his hair and come down his throat, his fingers absolutely tangled in his locks.

He pulled his dick out and started to pump himself, continuing to bob his head up and down on Zayn until he felt Zayn leak in his mouth just a little bit. “Gonna come,” he warned, as if Harry couldn’t figure that out on his own, pulled Harry’s head to his pelvis and there was come slathering the walls of his mouth and forcing its way down his throat.

“Fuck,” Harry cried, pulling off and swallowing as much as he could. He gasped for air, blinking quickly as Zayn lost his shit above him, still in the throes of his orgasm and fisting the sheets underneath. “Oh my god.”

“Harry, get up here,” Zayn ordered, and he weakly complied, his knees nearly giving out as he joined Zayn on the bed. “You naughty whore.”

He shivered at that as Zayn’s hand roughly replaced his own, pumping at his cock furiously as the other hand carded through Harry’s hair again. “Fucking took me, did you? Swallowed me down like the filthy bitch you are?” He snarled, and Harry’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. He nodded and whined until Zayn kissed him, kicking at the air as Zayn’s thumb circled around the head of his cock.

He squirmed a bit too much, apparently, because Zayn let go of his hair to pin Harry’s body down with his own, making Harry absolutely just take it, peppering soft kisses on his neck and jaw until Harry was crying. “Baby, come on,” He whispered in his ear as his tongue circled around and teeth bit down on his lobe.

“Fuck,” Harry whimpered, letting Zayn hold him down as he bucked his hips wildly into the air. “Gonna come.”

“Yeah,” Zayn cooed almost condescendingly, which only made Harry’s stomach curl even more. “All for me, right, sweetheart?”

The pet name was too much, everything was fadingexcept for Zayn; his cologne, his hands, his mouth, and Harry spurted white all over himself and Zayn’s fist, breathing shakily and panting. “Zayn,”

“I know, sweetheart,” Zayn reached for the box of tissues on the nightstand as Harry mewled in his hold. “Too amazing, baby.”

“I love you so much,” Harry sobbed, letting Zayn clean them up. “I love you so much.”

“Don’t leave,” Zayn begged once they were situated underneath the covers and cuddled up against one another. “Postpone even just another week, Harry.”

Harry looked up at him, and Zayn looked so desperate, like he wasn’t sure what was going to happen if Harry left and ruined Christmas.

No way in hell was he going to ruin Christmas for Zayn.

“Another week, maybe,” he teased, as thought he wasn’t about to start begging himself. “Another month?”

“Just until winter’s over,” Zayn chided, repeatedly kissing Harry’s head. “Till I publish a book and quit my hospital job.”

“Till your hospital job?” Harry murmured, tilting his head up so that Zayn’s lips were aimed for his nose. “Till your book reaches the New York Times’ Bestsellers List?”

Zayn finally got it, smiling softly as he twirled a lock of Harry’s hair around his finger. “Yeah, till the fourth book, maybe.” Harry’s eyes were so bloody gorgeous.

It was snowing again outside, the bottle of whiskey still on Harry’s table, the window Zayn frequents shining just a little bit brighter than the others.

Then there was the bed, and the house, and the rose gardens. “Till the roses bloom again.”

“Yeah,”

And the forest, and the boars, and the tree house.

“Till the tree house falls out of the tree.”

“Most definitely,”

And the clock shop, the jewelry shop, little Georgie with the sour mouthed mum, and Dad was somewhere, Harry reckoned. Out in the stars, apologizing over and over, so he quietly thought to himself that he mustn’t apologize anymore. What a waste of energy, being mad at a dead man. Being mad at a rumor. Being mad at a mom who couldn’t have known what the hell she was doing.

Zayn wasn’t a forester, never was. He was never a healer either, or a boy that liked to trespass the rich kid’s house. He certainly was never a Malik, god forbid. “Till your name changes again.”

“Fuck,” Zayn sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

“You know something, Zee?” Harry asked, his heart still thumping loudly in his chest. There was something so addicting about the way Zayn’s eyebrows answered, raised and curious.

“Know what?”

“I think that was the first time you’ve ever used the front door.”

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, you naughty motherfuckers. This took me a month to write just because it was hard, I wish I could’ve made it longer but Christmas is almost over for some of you so I made do. 
> 
> Love ya! Let me know what you think!  
> -J


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